All Chapters of Wounded soldier: Chapter 21
- Chapter 30
50 chapters
CHAPTER -22 “The Things We Don’t Say Out Loud”
If you’d told me months ago that I’d be standing on a hill with Lena, tasting sunlight instead of sorrow, I would’ve laughed in your face. Or walked away. Probably both. But here I am—here we are—with the morning still wrapped around us like a quiet promise. By the time we walk back into town, I feel lighter. Not healed, not fixed—just… less haunted. Like someone finally opened a window in a house that had been dark for too long. Lena walks beside me, her fingers brushing mine every few seconds, as if reassuring herself that I’m still here. I don’t pull away. I don’t tense. I don’t retreat into myself. Not today. The street vendors are setting up stands. A few townspeople wave—people who used to look at me like a stranger they weren’t sure they should talk to. Now, they look at me differently. Softer. Maybe because Lena once told them I was a good man. Maybe because she said it with enough conviction that they believed her. Maybe because she made me start believing it too. W
CHAPTER- 23 “The Quiet Before the Breaking”
There’s a strange kind of peace in waking up with someone you love resting against your chest. Lena fell asleep curled into me, her breath soft and warm against the fabric of my shirt. I didn’t plan on sleeping—I thought her closeness would keep me awake, too aware, too alert. But somewhere between her whispering “stay with me” and the steady rhythm of her breathing, something inside me loosened. And I slept. Not deeply. Not without shadows. But I slept beside her—and that alone feels like a quiet miracle. She stirs before I fully open my eyes. I feel her shift, the tips of her fingers brushing along my ribs as she stretches. Then she lifts her head and blinks at me with the softest morning expression I’ve ever seen. “…you’re awake,” she says, still half-dreaming. I hum, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “So are you.” She smiles, slow and sleepy. “Did you sleep okay?” “I did,” I answer honestly. She lifts herself up on her elbows, looking relieved and almost proud. “G
Chapter 16 — The Shape of Quiet Healing
A week after the lake, I start noticing something I hadn’t before. The stillness. Not the kind that comes from peace, but the kind that comes right before an old wound decides it isn’t done with you. It happens on an ordinary afternoon. Lena is in the garden, her sleeves rolled up, humming as she prunes the small lemon tree we planted in early spring. The shop is closed for the day, the sky a soft, cloudless blue. Everything feels gentle — untouched. But inside me, something shifts. A tremor. A memory. A voice I had convinced myself had finally gone quiet. I’m wiping the counter in the kitchen when it hits — not a flashback, not fear, just… heaviness. The kind that settles behind the ribs like an old visitor who didn’t knock before entering. For a moment, I freeze. The house is warm, sunlight spilling across the floor. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is breaking. But the weight rises anyway, slow and steady, like an echo of a life I left behind. I close my eyes, inhale. And I le
CHAPTER 24 — Where the Darkness Trembles
I should have known peace that quiet has a price. The morning after the storm, the world felt too still. The sky was pale and washed-out, the air heavy with a kind of waiting. Even the birds seemed hesitant to sing, as if they sensed something moving beneath the surface of the day that I hadn’t yet understood. I walked slowly toward the lake, my hands shoved into my jacket pockets, my thoughts tangled with everything that had happened the night before — the confrontation, the truth spilled open, the past clawing its way out of the shadows where I’d buried it. And Lena. Always her. Her voice. Her warmth. Her fingers trembling slightly when she touched my cheek and whispered that I wasn’t alone. But the truth is, I felt alone this morning. Not because she wasn’t here, but because something inside me was shifting — undoing — like an old scar pulling tight before finally loosening. When I reached the lake, the water’s surface rippled with the faintest breeze. A soft gray mist clu
CHAPTER 25 — Shadows That Wear Familiar Faces
The hours after Lena’s confession stretched like a wire pulled too tight. We walked back from the lake in silence — not the comfortable kind we sometimes shared, where words weren’t needed because the space between us was full. This silence was heavier. Denser. It felt like something was following us through the mist, stepping exactly where we stepped, exhaling when we exhaled. By the time we reached her shop, the fog had thinned, but the tension inside me hadn’t. Lena paused at the doorway, her hand on the handle, and looked back at me. Her eyes searched my face, trying to read thoughts even I wasn’t ready to understand. “Do you want to come in?” she asked softly. I hesitated. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But the moment I stepped inside her safe world, I knew I would bring pieces of my danger with me. Pieces she didn’t deserve. But she didn’t look away. Didn’t step back. Didn’t hide. So I nodded. She unlocked the door and let me inside. The shop smelled like comfort — ro
CHAPTER 26 — The Weight of Names Unspoken
There are moments in life when silence becomes heavier than any spoken truth. Moments when the world feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting to see whether you will break or stand, or simply disappear back into the shadows you once came from. The morning after the sheriff brought the message — Tell Evan I’m back. And this time I won’t disappear — the world outside felt quieter than it should have. Too still, like the calm before something mean and determined. Even the trees seemed to stand straighter, listening. Lena didn’t wake immediately. She had fallen asleep curled against me on the couch, her head resting on my chest, her fingers tangled in the fabric of my shirt like she feared I would vanish in the night. I hadn’t slept at all. My eyes stayed open, watching the fire burn lower and lower until it turned to embers. Every crackle of wood sounded like a warning. She shifted a little in the early light, her breath warm against me, her body trusting in a way I didn’t deserve.
CHAPTER 27 — The Edge of What We Fear
The shop felt impossibly small. The scent of flowers, which had once been soft and comforting, now hung in the air like a fragile layer over something sharper, more dangerous. Cole was there. Standing near the doorway, casual, confident, and impossibly wrong in this safe little space. My chest tightened, not just from fear, but from the recognition of something I thought I had buried long ago — that raw, relentless tension that comes from facing a man who once meant everything and now meant ruin. Lena was behind me, her presence a calm I needed, but also a reminder of what I had to protect. Her hand slid into mine, a grip full of courage and quiet insistence, and suddenly I realized I was holding more than just her hand — I was holding all the pieces of myself that had almost given up. Cole’s gaze moved over her for a fraction of a second before returning to me. That smirk of his, the same smirk that had haunted my nightmares, hadn’t faded with time. He had aged, yes — the lines aro
CHAPTER 28 — The Storm Knows Our Names
The night after Cole left, the cabin felt hollow. Not empty, exactly — the furniture was in its place, the fire had burned low but still gave a faint warmth, and Lena’s scent lingered in the corners — soft, calming, life-giving. Yet, despite all of that, the air felt thick, charged with something I couldn’t name. Like the calm before a hurricane, a silence that vibrated with warning. I sat on the couch, hands clasped, staring at the embers in the fireplace. Lena had insisted on sitting with me, staying close, and I allowed it, though a part of me remained elsewhere. My mind kept replaying Cole’s words, his steps through the shop, the flicker in his eyes when he looked at Lena. The way he had left the room — slow, controlled, deliberate — and yet somehow heavier, more threatening than before. I could feel the danger approaching, even in the stillness. Years of training, years of surviving impossible odds, sharpened my senses like blades. And yet, nothing I had faced before compared t
CHAPTER 29 — When Shadows Strike
The warehouse loomed ahead, abandoned, dark, and silent in the dying light of day. Its broken windows reflected streaks of orange from the sunset, jagged shadows stretching across the cracked concrete. The smell of damp and decay hung thick in the air, carrying memories I’d hoped I’d left behind years ago. Memories of fire, betrayal, blood, and loss. Cole stood near the center, motionless, like he was carved from the shadows themselves. The smirk was gone, replaced by something sharper — predatory, deliberate. He had chosen this place for a reason. He knew its corners, its blind spots, its empty threats. And I knew he would exploit every one. I crouched behind a pile of old crates, watching. My pulse was steady despite the tension, my muscles coiled, my mind running through every scenario. Every exit, every weak point, every strategy I had ever learned in my life. Survival was instinct, but strategy — strategy was the difference between living and dying. Cole’s voice cut through th
CHAPTER 30 — Shadows That Hunt
The air in the cabin that night felt impossibly thick, heavy with anticipation. The fire burned low in the hearth, giving off little more than a muted glow, while shadows danced across the walls. Every sound outside — the whisper of wind through the trees, the distant howl of a dog, the creak of the cabin itself — felt amplified, sharper, like warning bells. Lena moved quietly around the room, her movements cautious but purposeful. She was preparing supper, or at least pretending to, but I knew her mind was elsewhere. Just like mine. The memory of the warehouse fight played on a loop in my mind. Cole had retreated, yes, but his warning had lingered like a ghost in my chest: This isn’t over. I could feel it in my bones. That man didn’t retreat; he planned. He watched. He waited for the exact moment to strike again. Lena’s voice broke my reverie. “Evan… you’re tense. You’ve barely touched your food. You’ve barely stopped thinking about him.” I tried to force a smile, but it faltered